


Arranged Marriage

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-24
Updated: 2005-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vialle of Rebma marries a Prince of Amber</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arranged Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The RCK

 

 

***

Vialle was not always blind. She can remember being very small and her mother gave her a doll with brightly coloured dresses. Vialle can recall scarlet, emerald, sapphire. When she was four the sickness came and when it left, took the colors with it. Playing with her doll made her sad after that. Her mother cleverly brought her new toys. Soft plush animals; textured blocks of brick, wood, and stone; anything she could find that was bumpy or coarse or soft or smooth. Many in Rebma found it odd when they saw the little girl with the strange toys, but Vialle could not see them so she did not care. Her toys felt good to her and she loved them and her wise and wonderful mother.

On Vialle's seventh birthday, Mother brought her a special present. At first she was confused. Inside the smooth, cool cylinder was something moist and cold with a faint, unfamiliar smell. She did not like to touch it until Mother scooped some out and pressed a lump into her hands. It was called _clay_ and it came from the earth up above Rebma, she explained, and Vialle could shape things with it. Mother placed Vialle's small hands on her face and asked Vialle to make a picture of her in the clay. Vialle has been sculpting ever since.

***

The summons is as unwelcome as it is unexpected. Vialle is called from her studio to the throne room of Moire. It seems that she is to marry. She had thought herself safe form such a fate; no one in Rebma has shown an interest in the quiet young woman with the odd, pale eyes. Her husband to be is not of her own land however; a Prince of Amber has forfeited his freedom. Vialle knows, as all in Rebma do, the tale of how Random seduced gentle Morganthe, got her with child, and abandoned her. Mere months after the child Martin was born, Morganthe had strangled herself. Some said in hushed tones that Morganthe had never been the most stable of young women, but it would not do to criticize Moire's daughter publicly. Still, Random of Amber hardly sounds like he would make a proper husband. And the worst is that marrying Vialle is his punishment. She is silently indignant at that. He may choose death or a year with Vialle. The humiliation is almost too great, but though her eyes are unseeing, Vialle knows the importance of appearances. She holds her head high as she is introduced to her betrothed.

***

Random of Amber is not what she expected. He sits down with her in their new quarters, large and ornately decorated as befits a Prince of Amber and his consort. He apologizes for placing her in this position, knowing it must gall her to be a punishment for a man's youthful indiscretions. He will do his best to honor her, he says. Vialle is not sure what to make of his words, but she likes his voice. It has an interesting timbre. She had imagined that a Prince of Amber would have a deep voice, and a commanding one. Random's voice is neither. It is a clear tenor, and has a rhythm that is unfamiliar to her. He speaks quickly and almost sharply at times, and slower in an almost drawl at others. Many months later, Vialle will discover that the jazz music Random favors has actually shaped his speech patterns. When he is away, she will play those records over and over.

***

Vialle thought she knew how men with reputations like Random's seduced their victims. They would do so with flattery and promises. Random engages in neither. He does have a wicked sense of humour, and points it equally at her, himself, and the others around him. She finds this more enjoyable than any sweetly uttered compliments. They do not yet share serious conversation, or a bed, for to Vialle's surprise he has not yet insisted on bedding her. She is partially relieved and perhaps a little insulted. But they do share conversation, and laughter. He is a musician, and sometimes plays for her. He is good company and Vialle thinks that when the year is up, she might miss him a little.

Over the next few months, Vialle senses a shift in Random's manner towards her. His voice has a new lilt in it; no one has ever flirted with Vialle before, but she thinks that's what this is. When they sit together and talk, he reaches out to touch her sometimes on the arm or shoulder when he is making a point. He watches her sometimes when she sculpts. At first she finds it a bit unnerving, but after a few weeks she would miss the gentle company of his breathing if it were not there. He compliments her newest work, a complicated abstract piece of arches and whorls.

"Do you ever do portraits?" he asks.  
"Sometimes." She answers simply.  
Random comes over to her bench and lifts her small, clay covered hands to his face.  
"You could do mine."  
She traces the angles and planes of his face, finally seeing her husband for the first time. He is handsome and he is smiling.

***

One night several weeks later, after a very boring fete in honor of some visiting dignitary, Random and Vialle return together to their quarters. The party was long and tedious, but Random is recounting the events and speeches with such a mock tone of seriousness that she is nearly bent double with laughter. It is too early and they are too awake to consider sleep so Random opens a bottle of wine for them to share. Conversation turns to flirting which turns to touching, and Vialle is frightened and excited as his lips touch hers for the first time. That night, she comes to his bed for the first time. Random's hands are gentle as they caress her shoulders and move down to cup her breasts. He draws slow circles around her nipples with his thumbs. The touch is maddeningly light and Vialle pushes up, gasping, trying to get more.

She feels the vibrations from a silent laugh against her sensitized skin. He is teasing her, this wicked man, and she does not know which of them is enjoying it more.

" _Please_ " she moans and she has never heard her own voice sound like that, low and needy.

Random follows the path of his thumbs with his tongue; Vialle shivers with delight as he begins to suck one nipple into his mouth and then the other. His strong hands are stroking her sides and down to her hips. She parts her thighs instinctively, silently encouraging him. Vialle is inexperienced but not naive. She knows what will happen next and she stiffens a bit, bracing for the initial pain of it.

When he slides further down her body and she feels a tickling puff of breath against her belly, she draws in her breath. When he moves lower and touches his tongue to her sex, she exhales, a deep sigh that carries away tension that she did not know she had. He learns the most secret part of her with lips and tongue, coaxing exquisite sensations from her. She arches up into his mouth and as her orgasm shudders through her, she calls his name.

***

It is the last night of the year. Tomorrow Random is a free man, and will undoubtedly return to Amber. He has not spoken of it and Vialle has been afraid to ask, not knowing if she will not like the answer. She comes to his bed, though, as has been her habit for the last few months. She hears Random blow out the candles on the bedside table. This is a first, when they have made love in the past; he had always left them burning. He likes to look at her, he says; he thinks her beautiful. This time though, he tells her he wants to see her as she sees him, with fingers and lips and tongue. As he makes love to her, she sees all the colors behind her eyes. Tomorrow, they will leave for Amber.

 

 

 


End file.
